


Letters

by MEVaughan



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Detailed Headcanon, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Not really a fic if I'm honest, mentions of sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 10:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MEVaughan/pseuds/MEVaughan
Summary: Elain and Lucien fall in-love through a series of letters.A headcanon that turned out longer than I expected...





	Letters

   Elain and Lucien find it difficult to communicate and spending time together in person is painful and awkward. Elain’s still heart-broken and the pressure and expectation of the mating bond is like an infected wound that won't heal. They’re driven together, but they don’t know each other, and Elain is so confused and lost, and Lucien is hurt and conflicted.

And so it isn't a hard decision when Lucien decides to go and do his work on the continent, with Vassa. Elain is relieved he’s gone, but also finds herself pining for him, drawn to him, uncomfortably connected. She confides in Feyre that it would be so much easier if he wasn’t a stranger...So Feyre suggests she write Lucien a letter...

The first letter is just a short one. It’s almost a report. Elain tells Lucien what’s been happening in the Night Court, and warns him of one of the visions she’s had, which she thinks may affect him. It’s a week before Lucien replies.

He thanks her for the information and the warning. Turns out it saved their lives. He gives her news to pass on to Rhysand and Feyre, and in the last paragraph describes the view they have where they are...

The exchange continues. Elain finds herself taking comfort in the ritual. She doesn’t know or even really like Lucien yet, but the scheduled letters makes her feel more alert. It clears her mind - gives her something to do. One day, there’s no news from Rhysand to pass on, but Elain is adamant that she needs to write her weekly letter...So she describes the change of weather in Velaris, and her thoughts on the season flowers she’ll be preparing in the garden.

When Lucien replies, he tells her about some of the flowers they have on the continent, making suggestions on some of the ones she could perhaps plant - species they don’t have in the human realms. It’s still a little official, like a professional suggestion, but for the first time the letter actually makes Elain feel...happy.

So she gets hold of the plant Lucien suggested, and puts in the garden, and the next few letters, she reports on its progress, as it begins to flower. It feels like a mission. She describes it in detail, from the way it looks, to the way it smells, to the way she’s been tending to it.

Lucien replies with equal fervour. He mentions that his mother used to do some gardening, and she found that a certain technique worked best with this plant...It’s the first time either of them mentions something personal.

The next time Elain writes, she briefly mentions the garden she used to have at home. It was much smaller, but she loved it. Her hands shake a little as she writes this, conscious of the vulnerability.

Lucien is two days late in replying. For the first time, Elain feels real disappointment when she gets home to no letter. The first night she’s upset, the second she’s worried. The following morning, the letter arrives. It’s short.

Lucien apologies for the delay - there were complications on their side, and Lucien didn’t get the chance to reply. He talks about the Spring Court gardens, and how you could just lie under the blossoms and get drunk on the smell, it was so peaceful. Elain notices that his hand-writing is a little off, not like he’s in a hurry, but like each word took far too long to write out.

She says that she’s glad he’s safe, and admits that secretly, after Feyre told her about the Spring Court, Elain was a little envious...It sounded perfect, even though Elain enjoys the Night Court. She regrets sending the letter almost as soon as she does - she knows what the Spring Court was really like, it was stupid of her to say something so selfish and naive.

Lucien’s reply comes three days early. He tells her how much he loved the Spring Court when he first arrived - the fact it always felt so fresh, like a new beginning, with none of the heavy flavours, colours and weight of the Autumn. At the end, Lucien admits that he never really felt like he belonged in any Court. Autumn was in his blood, and he loved it despite everything...But maybe the reason he’d travelled around was because he craved a change in seasons. Its one thing he likes about the Night Court - that change.

And then, to Elain’s absolute surprise, Lucien admits that the only problem is...he’s always been a little afraid of the dark.

She can feel the embarrassment soaked into the writing, can almost feel the same instant regret Lucien felt when he sent it over. The exposure...the vulnerability.  
She replies that she’s always been afraid of the dark too. And that actually, despite it all, she’d loved it when she, Nesta and Feyre had all shared that bed, in that run-down shack. She hated sleeping alone.

The ritual goes from one, to two letters a week. Lucien tells her a little bit about how he grew up in the Autumn Court. Elain tells him about her father’s fall from grace and living poverty. They trade tiny secrets, and as time goes on, Elain stops feeling so tense every time she sends the letter...she starts to feel like, no matter what she says, Lucien wouldn’t laugh or scoff at her for it.

Lucien breaks the mold, and asks the first question. Up until this point, all the information has been voluntarily offered. This time he requests it - gently, and tentatively. He asks about her mother.

It takes Elain a long time to reply. She struggles for the right words. In the end, she gets it down - her memories, her mother’s death, the way it felt...And at the end, she asks her own question. She asks Lucien who Jesminda is. It’s a name she heard Feyre whisper once to Lucien, and the sorrow that emanated from him was unimaginable.

Lucien doesn’t reply. As the days go on, Elain is gripped with fear. Did she take it too far? Did she push too much? She begins writing a letter to apologise, and then stops herself from sending it. She deliberates on what to do - give him space? Wait? Apologise?

The letter eventually comes through. Elain is almost too afraid to read it, but can’t stop herself tearing it open. Lucien apologises for the delay. He admits that when he got her letter, he didn’t want to reply. He tried to write a regular letter, completely ignoring the question, but couldn’t make himself send it. He had to fight with himself to write it all out, but here...here, in his best way, he has tried to explain who Jesminda is.

Elain reads the letter, reads Lucien’s description of the woman he loved. She feels the strength of the feelings in his writing, the truth and the brutal honesty of his confession. And then the grief when he explains what happened and how he lost her...

Feyre finds Elain sobbing, the letter clutched to her chest. She’s sobbing for Lucien, but also for herself. She replies the next day.

She tells Lucien that she resented him. That she resented all the fae, for what happened to her. She wanted to be with her fiancé. She loved Greyson - she really loved him, but her future was snatched away. She talks about how she wanted to claw out the mating bond between them, because it wasn’t fair that on the day fate took her life, it also dictated who she was supposed to love now.

Lucien’s reply comes quickly. He explains how much he hated himself when the Mating Bond clicked into place. How he couldn’t help compare Elain to Jesminda, how he felt like he’d betrayed her because Jesminda was supposed to be his mate, not Elain.  
Elain cries again, this time in relief. She describes how seeing Feyre and Rhysand together made her feel like there was just no choice...That that was how Mates were supposed to be, and that she and Lucien must have been a mistake, because Elain still loved someone else. She felt so guilty for it, because she knew it hurt Lucien...But knowing that he loved someone else too, it helps.

Lucien agrees with her. He tells her it’s a relief to hear her describe her true feelings - it loosens a tightness in his heart. He makes a joke about how Feyre and Rhysand are so good together it’s almost sickening.

Elain counters it with a joke of her own, describing the antics of the High Lord and Lady, and how insufferably ‘together’ they are. She laughs as she’s writing it, feeling a little wicked for the first time in a long time. Later that night, after she’s sent the letter, Rhysand notes that they heard her giggling. Elain looks at him, with Feyre curled around him, the pair interlocked, and breaks into another burst of laughter.

The next few letters are just a continues gag between Elain and Lucien, about how irritatingly perfect Rhysand and Feyre are. “The Sun is in your eyes, Feyre? THEN I WILL FIGHT THE SUN!” “Rhysand, the wind is ruffling your hair - THE TRECHEROUS BITCH BETTER KEEP HER HANDS TO HERSELF!”

They go from two letters, to three a week. Lucien describes his work with Vassa, regaling Elain with private anecdotes about what Vassa is like, and the trouble they get into. Elain reads the letters over and over, and tells Lucien about the season change in the Night Court. She describes it in as much detail as she can, until she’s sure that Lucien will be able to picture it - to feel it - perfectly.

They begin to tell each other everything. About dreams they had, or odd thoughts, or opinions. Lucien recommends Elain a book, and they argue about it, each taking different sides on the narrative and the hero. The flower that Lucien suggested Elain grow blooms fully, and then begins to wilt as the cold begins to set in. Elain picks, dries and presses it, and sends it to Lucien in her next letter.

In exchange he sends her seeds. He tells her how to plant them, but doesn’t tell her what they are. Their first gift exchange. She follows his instructions, and waits impatiently to see the results.

At one point, Elain has a terrible vision and wakes screaming. Lucien and Vassa are in trouble, and she knows it. She alerts Rhysand who goes, along with Cassian and Az and Feyre. Nesta and Elain sleep in the same bed that night, and though neither of them say it, both are terrified.

There are no letters for a while. Rhysand and the others come back, battered and battle-worn, but alive. Lucien isn’t with them. He stayed to secure the new defences that have been put in place. For the first time Elain is angry.

She tells him so in her letter. She knows he was injured. He should have come home.

His reply throws her off guard. “Do you want me to come back?”

The next few letters, they forget about the heated exchange. Lucien describes the destruction of the attack, and the repair. He is candid with her, and though she knows he is pulling the punches somewhat, she is glad of his honesty.

She admits that she was scared. Lucien admits he was scared too, and that when the danger reared it’s head, all he could think was that he wanted to survive to get her next letter.

Elain rereads the letter several times, and keeps it under her pillow. It’s the first unsaid ‘I love you’.

Elain signs off her next letter as “Your Elain.”

They dance around their growing tenderness for each other. Elain starts to feel frustrated. Lucien never says it, never directly, his words are always so intricate and thoughtful, and she analyses them for small sips of affection. She likes the way he writes her name.

Then comes a hard letter. It’s another delayed on. All of the hard letters - the letters which contain a shred of heartbreak - all of them come late. Elain notes that about Lucien - his heart is heavily guarded, and even he struggles to reach into it and open himself up.

He tells her about Ianthe and what happened. He confesses that over the last few weeks, since...well since they’ve been...He can’t quite define what he and Elain have been doing, but he’s been feeling sick to his stomach. He told her about Jesminda, but he feels tainted. Tainted by Ianthe’s hands and her body. And then he reveals that it wasn’t the first time...the first time someone had taken advantage of him. It had happened before.

Once again, Elain cries over Lucien’s letter. And she confesses something she’s never told anyone either. About how a lord took her to the side when she was young, when they were still rich, and how she remembers his hands on her body, and the way he kissed her throat...And that he gave her a sweet-cake and told her never to tell anyone about it. By the time Elain fully understood what had happened, she was too ashamed to tell anyone...

Lucien’s reply is full of rage. The pages almost seem to curl, like they might burst into flames. Elain is a little alarmed. Lucien wants to tear the male who did that to her apart. If she gives him a name, he’ll do it.

Elain tells him she doesn’t remember. She does, but she doesn’t want to see Lucien use those flames to hurt anyone. She’s suddenly happy to let the past die. Not once in his letters does Lucien show any distaste toward her for her secret - something she was promised would happen if she ever whispered it to a soul.

That night, Elain imagines what it would be like to have Lucien’s lips against her neck. Heat flushes through her, and she holds the image.

They begin to flirt. It’s painfully slow. Lucien seems frightened of saying the wrong thing. Elain doesn’t know how to be provocative. She watches Feyre, hoping to get some tips. She wishes it came to her naturally...

The seeds that Lucien sent her begin to grow and flower. Elain can’t believe it when she comes down to find a literal field of gold and fire. Morrigan is standing the doorway of the garden. “Fire Orchids,” she tells Elain. “They’re incredibly rare - you don’t usually see them outside of the Autumn Court. How did you get hold of them?”  
Elain asks Feyre to paint her a picture of a fire orchid. She sends it to Lucien, with a letter of thanks. She signs it with a kiss.

A year comes round. Elain has to buy a trunk to keep all her letters. She puts them in order, tying them with ribbons, which she colour codes. The most important letters - the ones with the secrets that make her cry, or her heart flutter, she keeps hidden.

Feyre walks in on her organising the letters and actually splutters. “Are those all from Lucien?”

Elain closes the trunk, her eyes cast down shyly. “I guess you were right, Feyre. Sending a letter was a good idea.”

Elain feels it in her body when Lucien returns to the Night Court. She’s sat in the garden, pruning, when a shiver goes down her spine and she senses him. He’s suddenly there, close by, in the House of Wind.

She abandons the garden and goes running. She meets Az on the street outside, coming toward the town-house. He was coming to inform her Lucien was back. She takes Az by his beautiful, scarred hands and begs him to bring her up to the House of Wind. He whips her up in his arms without a moment’s hesitation, and takes off.

Elain can feel each pound of her heart as she gets closer. When she used to think of Lucien, he was a flame - enticing, but dangerous. Now he’s daylight. Daylight after what feels like an endless night. They land on the balcony, and Elain barely waits for Azriel to set her down.

She runs in, not caring that there are grass stains on her knees, and that she’s still wearing her gardening gloves, and that her shoes are muddy. Her hair flies loosely behind her, and with each step her smile grows wide and wider. The world feels bright, it feels promising. She feels like she’s rushing home.

She bursts into the meeting room. Feyre and Rhysand are sat together, Amren and Morrigan either side. Cassian is in the corner, observing, and there are others - Vassa’s people. But Elain sees Lucien - Lucien with his skin like smoldering gold, his hair hastily pulled back into a plait which is coming loose, trousers muddied and tattered from weeks of travel. He looks up and their eyes meet.

It snaps into place. The mating bond takes a complete hold of Elain and suddenly she understands. Suddenly she knows. The breath leaves her. It looks like it leaves Lucien too. He steps toward her, she runs at him.

He stumbles under the force of her, as she piles into him, but his hold is firm and tight around her waist and back. She can’t believe this is the first time he’s held her, because it feels like actually those arms have been gradually pulling her in for months. She just wants to fall into him forever. His head is buried in her shoulder and against her neck, and he cradles her as he slowly lifts his face and looks her in the eye.

“Welcome home,” she whispers, and kisses him.

His hand moves up into her hair, as she wraps hers around the back of his head, pulling him against her. She feels light - not just physically, but like light itself. Lucien is glowing, and it takes Elain a moment to realise how literally. Hundreds of written words, some sad, some happy, some angry, bind them together, and as they pull apart from the first kiss, the laughter bubbles out.

And Elain is happy. She’s so happy.


End file.
